Short Sword: Average Quality [Ringing Blows]: This item remembers the ringing of the man who forged it. While wielding it, you may use a small amount of your magical energy to imbue your attacks to leave a faint resonance behind upon impact. Repeated strikes against the same area will cause increased damage. [Hungry]: This item hungers for power, and will consume more magical energy than necessary in order to function. “Would you look at that,” Arwin mused, holding the sword up to the light. “That’s actually rather useful. Not bad. Not bad at all. It still managed to pick up a detrimental property, but considering the chance of that is eighty percent right now, I don’t think I can complain. It’s good to know I can get two different properties on a single weapon.” “Whoa.” Reya’s voice came from behind him. Arwin turned, finding Reya standing in the doorway of the smithy, her eyes wide. He lowered the sword, then picked up the sheath from one of the swords he’d taken from the Brothers Six, swapping the blade out for his own. “Staring is impolite,” Arwin said. “Sorry.” Reya shook her head, blushing. “I just saw the swords you were making before. No offense, but they sucked. You’re getting better at a crazy rate. Were you just screwing around before?” Arwin looked over to the pile of garbage, then chuckled. “No. I’m just a fast learner.” Her words echoed through the darkness, making Arwin wince. He superstitiously glanced over his shoulder, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword. The back of his spine prickled, and his hair stood on end. Something about the tavern set him on edge. The shadows were too long, and it was far too silent – and dark. Much, much too dark. It wasn’t the same as his smithy. That building had been equally as run down, but it didn’t feel nearly as ominous. Reya didn’t seem particularly concerned, so she was either completely oblivious to the sensation or had just gotten used to it. “Who’s asking?” a female voice called. It was followed by several choked coughs and a curse. Smoke curled out of the doorway and trickled out through the cracks in the precarious ceiling. “That’s Lillia,” Reya whispered before raising her voice to call back. “It’s me, Reya! I came back for lunch. You told me to, remember?” “Oh, right.” There was a short pause. The smoke pouring out of the kitchen intensified, and Reya exchanged a glance with Arwin. There were some hurried thuds, followed by a loud crunch. The smoke stopped. “Do you mind waiting a bit? I may have set lunch on fire.” “That’s fine,” Reya said before Arwin could say anything. She walked up to the counter, ignoring the small pieces of debris that crunched beneath her feet with every step, and carefully sat down on the stool. It creaked precariously. “Sorry,” Reya said. “Only one chair right now.” “So I see,” Arwin said dryly. “And I suspect there are no chairs that hold my weight.” “Hold on,” Lillia called from within the kitchen, her tone gaining a panicked note to it. The shuffling from behind the wall grew more aggressive. “Did you bring someone else with you? Is that a new customer?” “It’s just Arwin. You’ve been cooking for him a while already,” Reya explained. “You don’t have to worry about it.” “Oh no. This is a horrible precedent,” Lillia said. There was another crash, followed by a series of curses. “I’ll have food out as soon as possible, I promise! Just wait a little longer?” “I thought she wanted more customers?” Arwin asked, whispering to avoid stressing the poor woman any further. “She does,” Reya whispered back. “But I think she’s also worried about disappointing them, you know? I don’t really know her that well, but she clearly cares a lot about what people think of her cooking. She plied me with questions about how we liked the food every time I got something from her.” Arwin grunted. He walked up to the counter beside Reya, glancing around for somewhere to sit before promptly giving the idea up. There really was only a single stool, and it definitely wasn’t holding his weight. He put a hand on the bar, leaning gently against it to make sure it wouldn’t collapse beneath him. When the wood didn’t make too many creaks of protest, he allowed himself to put the rest of his weight against it. The uneasy feeling still gripped him, but at this point, his desire to eat something was greater than his concern. He highly doubted that there would be anything truly dangerous in this backwater city, and even though he didn’t seem to need real food anymore, he still relished the taste. Minutes ticked by. Arwin listened to Lillia’s hurried cooking through the wall. He could hear her muttering to herself, but the exact words were lost. Reya didn’t seem to mind the wait, and was busying herself by organizing tiny pieces of broken wood on the counter before her. “Have you ever been in here before?” Arwin asked. “Only to wait while the food was getting made,” Reya replied, glancing up from her artwork. “Why?” “Just wondering. It feels a bit… concerning,” Arwin said. Reya scrunched her nose. “Oh, yeah. I felt like that at first too. I haven’t gotten stabbed yet, though. That makes it better than most of the places I’ve been in.” “Your standards are far too low,” Arwin informed Reya, shaking his head. She did have a point, though. Nobody had tried to stab them. Yet. Arwin was about a second from drumming his fingers on the countertop in impatience when Lillia finally called out to them again.